Robert Mitchum plays a poor country preacher just trying to administer to his flock in the only honest, totally not creepy and completely sane ways he knows how. Just look at those sad, searching eyes! Despite the fact that jobs are plentiful and everyone is basically rich, Shelley Winters pulls a complicated double-cross by tricking the preacher into marriage and then trying to frame him for murder by playing dead at the bottom of the river. Meanwhile, her two diabolical children steal away with his life savings. Also starring Lillian Gish, who runs a gang of fruit thieves and underage prostitutes.
People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m
Oooh, that Shelley Winters - always getting into trouble in the water!
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